In this manifesto-cum-memoir, Vernon’s primary argument is that there’s a clash — in the eyes of other women’s libbers — between vanity and feminism. She finds this alienating. So much so that she has felt compelled to launch a new wing of the movement — hot feminism: “Hot like hot yoga, and hot topic, and also ‘hot’ as in ‘sexy hot’, obviously. Hot as in ‘potato’ and ‘dangerous’.” If you’re a hot feminist, sexiness is not an “impediment to [your] feminist politics — but... its rocket fuel”.

This has not been universally well-received. In fact, the book was given such a savaging by Helen Lewis in the Guardian that finding further fault with it feels like kicking a dead body: satisfying possibly, if you like that sort of thing, but unlikely to have much effect.

It was always going to be hatcheted, though. Vernon has presented the kind of caricatured view of feminists — stiletto-hating, supercilious fun police — that we expect from misogynists. And she’s written the book — oddly for someone who writes great interviews in the Times — in faux teen speak, referring to celebrities as “famouses”, and liberally scattering exclamation marks.

Vernon is right on one count, though. Feminists (me included) can be too judgmental about other women’s choices. But she overlooks the fact that the society feminism is challenging is even more judgmental — hectoring women to lose weight and remove body hair because it’s disgusting (read: natural). It’s a small victory if a teenager doesn’t feel she has to have a Brazilian to be beautiful.

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And for a book with the stated aim of stripping judgment out of feminism, Hot Feminist is pretty judgmental. Take Vernon’s view on sex-selective abortion: “Anyone who says they ‘only’ want to reduce any of the grounds on legal abortion doesn’t ‘only’ do anything. What they really want is to make abortion illegal.” No, sometimes they oppose abortion being used as a weapon against women.

For much of the book, Vernon just lists rule after rule: on fashion (Do hats! Invest in leather!) and on being fanciable (“Wear excellent lipstick, have strong ideas”). She argues feminism is too focused on the trivial (all-male panel shows, Page 3), only to spend a whole chapter on hair removal — her ’pits are “curiously deep and complex, a system of interconnected underarm mini caves”, if you’re interested.

There’s a bigger problem too. Feminism already isn’t inclusive enough, mostly reflecting the interests of white, middle-class ambitious women. Women like me, essentially. But Vernon’s version of feminism is so exclusive it even alienates me — a not hot feminist who can’t keep a straight face reading lines such as “Fashion is your bitch. Your Baldrick.” Who is hot feminism for? Polly Vernon and a few Polly Vernon clones?

Some of her advice is appalling too, such as encouraging women to be more sexually aggressive: “We need to teach women and girls to feel ultimately sexually entitled, to be, and to act, in a predatory way when they want sex with someone.” Ah, just what the world needs: more leches trying to con others into bed.

If you’re looking for an introduction to feminism, Caitlin Moran wrote the best four years ago (How to Be a Woman). I’d buy that and leave Vernon’s on the shelf.

Go to standard.co.uk/booksdirect to buy this book for £12.49, or phone 0843 060 0029, free UK p&p